"I Love the Lord Cause He Heard My Voice"

     I’ve been told by some of my family and even my closest friends that I have an “ugly cry.” It’s one where I scrunch up my whole face, turn down the corners of my lips, open my mouth and bawl. I’d never looked at myself in the mirror before when I cried, so I was clueless about what they were talking about. When I finally got the courage to test their theory, I quickly and even shockingly admitted they were right -- my crying was downright ugly!
     That said, I have a Father who daily, hourly “hears my prayers and sees my tears” (2 Kings 20:5). He listens, cares deeply, and works on my behalf at all times. I have a God who loves me no matter what I look like even when I’m crying, regardless of how much I’ve failed or how weak I am. His love is more solid than any mountain and can't be moved or shaken by anything I or anyone else thinks, does or fails to do (Is 54:10). I have the awesome privilege of going to him at any time of the day with fears, requests and even childish demands, with the certainly that he’s always there -- fully present and engaged, rejoicing over me, delighting over my life and finding great joy even in my tears. He knows that while my weeping may last for a night, his joy will come in the morning as I bring my pain to him and trust him to help and bring healing (Ps 30:5).
     I love the Lord because he hears my voice, because he first loved me (1 Jn 4:19), because he guarantees that nothing can come between this bond of love (Rom 8:38-39), and because he promises that his great, amazing, unstoppable love is also eternal -- no matter what (Jer 31:3).

"I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live." (Ps 116:1)

Christ Our Treasure

     I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier than when we landed in the Dallas airport on July 18^th and the guy in customs asked if we were US citizens. After we nodded yes, he said with a perfect Texas drawl, “Welcome home.” I thought about kissing the ground, but knew it would cause a scene and Mark and I were both too tired for that. Instead, I quietly took my place in the line designated for citizens with a thankful heart that this was my home and I was welcome back even after being gone for almost three years.
     Living in Korea changed me more than I realized. In fact, it wasn’t until coming back to the states that I could see how God masterfully used all the struggles of living abroad to mold me into a different person. When I left America, I felt like I was losing everything….my house, friends, hometown, the comforts of living in a place that was familiar to me. But as the days spilled into weeks this summer, I’ve realized that God wanted me to leave these things behind so that I could gain a new perspective on life and experience more fully the freedom he bought for me in Christ.
     Like most everyone else in the world I long for security so that I don’t have to fear what tomorrow brings. It’s so easy to convince myself that the obsession to control and possess people and things is a necessary solution for this need for security. I reason that because every woman wants a nice home it’s okay if I make that a priority. Or because money is essential for life, it’s normal that I’m constantly focused on how much I have. But instead of the steady focus bringing comfort and helping me conquer fear it enslaves me to the things I pursue, causing me to lose passion and perspective about why I’m actually on this earth. I used to think my purpose in life was to marry a nice man, have beautiful, intelligent children, live a comfortable life and amass as much “stuff” as I could so that I could live out my final days on earth in comfort and ease. This seemed to be the way everyone else was doing life, even in the church, so I categorized it as normal and set out to make it my goal. But God had a different plan.
     When we moved to Korea, we decided to leave everything behind except for two suitcases each which we carefully packed. We arrived at our apartment to find it sparsely furnished with simple beds, a kitchen table and a couch -- no pictures, rugs, bric-a-brac, curtains. Just a bare apartment that was about one third the size of our previous home. No yard, no trees, no grass.  We did what most people would do and went out to try to find “stuff” to put in our apartment to make it home. We learned where to shop to buy “stuff” to wear and “stuff” to eat and “stuff” to decorate with. But no matter what we put there, we couldn’t deny the fact that it wasn’t what we were used to.
     There have been times when I’m cooking in our small kitchen at a counter that seems designed for midgets  or looking out over the patchwork gardens and cement houses where people are barely making ends meet that I want to shake myself, hop on a plane and run for home. But then I remember what it is that God has been slowly teaching me these past three years – that as much as I love America it’s not going to make me happy. No matter how much it comforts me to be there, he’s placed a longing in my heart for something more. The Spirit witnesses with my spirit most every day that God has a plan for my life and purposes for me that transcend the walls of a home or earthly comforts. He wants me to learn to live by faith and depend on him in an ever increasing way. Sometimes he accomplishes this through simple things, other times he takes me to a far off place where I have nothing but him and he once again reminds me about my ultimate goal – to live and move and have my being in him.
     I’m learning to say what the apostle Paul said in Romans 14:8, “If I live, I live for Christ. If I die, I die for Christ. Whether I live or whether I die, I live or die for Christ.” It often helps when I’m feeling sorry for myself or worrying about tomorrow to take it a step further and say. “If I have a home or don’t, have money or am broke, am healthy or sick, have a good or a bad job, lose all I hold dear or am blessed with much, I belong to Christ and he alone is my treasure.”
     With this focus, my thinking is realigned with God’s perspective. I’m reminded that I’ve died with Christ and am now raised up with him to live a new life in a new way with new goals and purposes (Col 3:1-11). I don’t have to strive for and fret over what’s going to happen to me because he’s guaranteed  through the blood of Christ that he’ll never leave me or forsake me (Matt 6:31).  He promises that if I seek him first he’ll give me everything I need (Matt 6:33). If I make him my treasure, I’ll be filled with joy unspeakable, a heart at peace and a purpose driven life that far exceeds anything I can strive after or achieve on my own (Ps 1:3). 
     When I do finally die one day, I don’t want to be remembered as someone who clung desperately to this life. Instead I want to be remembered as someone who really believed the Gospel and lived like it was the greatest reality in the world. I want to be able to say to God (by his grace and the power of his spirit) over and over again and mean it, “I’ll go where you want me to go, do what you want me to do, be who you want me to be because you’re my Lord and my God. You’re my treasure.”

Randy Alcorn on the Treasure Principle. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDmS3sDFouk

Judgment Without Mercy

“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” Matt. 7:2

No one likes being judged. It feels rotten, especially when we look into someone’s eyes we once experienced warmth and acceptance from, only to find a cold stare instead. We can often sense this judgment without words, and it’s painful to say the least. But acting as judge over others can be habit forming as it gives us temporary comfort. We look at a person’s circumstances and the decisions they’ve made, then get out our pen and paper and begin scratching down equations that place our victim in some kind of manageable category. These judgments become the tools we use to make sense of failures and imperfections. They lull us into believing that we 'll prevail in the face of similar challenges -- if we’ll but respond differently.

I’ve been on both the giving and receiving end of merciless judgment, and I’m learning the reality of Matt. 7:2. God is teaching me just how terrible it feels to be judged so that I might repent of a lifelong pattern of sizing others up to make myself feel and look better. I realize that behind judgment is the desire to play God, to “figure his plans out”, to exalt myself and to calm anxiety over future uncertainties. If I’m able to blame the person for the mess they’ve gotten themselves into, it keeps me from fearing that I’ll end up in the same predicament.

Though I have no idea how God orchestrates it, I know he means business in fulfilling this promise: “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged.” If I choose to show justice with no mercy, God will allow me to know similar merciless justice, not because he wants to destroy me, but because he wants me to grow and repent. I’ve spent many years blaming certain people in my life for their mistakes and feeling superior in many ways because I don’t have the same weaknesses. But God is showing me that my weaknesses, though different, are just as sinful and harmful to others.

I woke up this morning with a broken heart over my sin. This is nothing short of miraculous, since I’ve been able to hide it by focusing on the shortcomings of others. I don’t know why God decided to break through to my stony heart this morning, or why the revelation hurts so much, but I’m thankful for what he’s doing. As much as I hate looking at my sin, and as much as I want desperately to deny its reality, I want more than anything to change. I want to leave judgment to God, to put away my assessment tools and let God be the judge.